The sun rose over Elusia, but it felt cold. The city was draped in white and gold banners, celebrating the hasty union of Crown Prince Leonidas and Lady Felicity Gracewell. The citizens cheered, ignorant of the fact that their future rulers were being walked to the altar like lambs to the slaughter.
Inside the Palace, Prince Stefan stood in his quarters, adjusting his ceremonial sword belt. His hands were steady, but his violet eyes were dark. He touched the hidden pocket of his tunic, feeling the crinkle of the note Silvie had sent him.
He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like the perfect Third Prince. Inside, he felt like a traitor. But he knew who the real traitor was. He had watched Cassian wheeling himself down the hall earlier, humming a happy tune, looking far too healthy for a dying man.
"I'm ready, Briar," Stefan whispered to his reflection. "Don't miss your cue."
